


Lover, What Have You Become?

by FindingSchmomo



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Arguing, Chains, Established Relationship, Hades!Oikawa, Inspired by Hades and Persephone (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), Inspired by Hadestown, M/M, Persephone!Iwaizumi, Self-Doubt, Self-Hatred, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:13:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25386616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FindingSchmomo/pseuds/FindingSchmomo
Summary: In which Oikawa is the God of the Underworld and just wants his husband home. Iwaizumi is not amused.------A songfic based on Chant by Hadestown the Musical
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 8
Kudos: 212





	Lover, What Have You Become?

**Author's Note:**

> For best effect I recommend listening to Chant by Hadestown the Musical.

Iwaizumi steps off the train, resettling his burlap bag against his shoulder. He can see the freshly dead stepping off from the other carts, numb and in single file. He grimaces but tries not to think about it too much. 

His mother always taught him about the cycle of life. How fleeting it can be for mortals. 

He looks out over his shared kingdom and he blinks free of his grimace, because he doesn’t recognize _anything_. 

Where once was slate and order now exists blaring light and cracked ore. His ear rings with the cacophony of a thousand hammers pounding against steel. 

What the hell is going on down here?

He startles when a finger hooks under his suspender strap, letting the fabric flick back against his chest. He looks up into Oikawa’s pale grinning face. 

Iwaizumi takes a step back, swatting his husband’s hand away. The smile on Oikawa’s face falters into a pout. Iwaizumi isn’t in the mood. 

“That was not six months,” he grouses. It feels like he had barely had enough time to finish a bottle in the world above before he’d been dragged down to the underground. He’d only given the flowers a brief moment of warmth to bloom. He had not been able to enjoy the sunny warmth of Ushijima’s gaze, or visit his mother’s home. And for what? What pressing need did Oikawa have to summon him back down here so soon?

Oikawa leans forward, “I missed ya.”

Iwaizumi feels anger fester in him. It is no secret there exists a hierarchy between the gods, and Oikawa, King of the Underworld, though having been dealt the shorter straw of his brothers, held incredible power. Iwaizumi was the son of a goddess, but the work he did for the mortals was just as important. Who would make sure the wheat had time to grow? Who would keep the frost at bay? 

Why did Oikawa think so little of him?

Instead of kissing Oikawa, which is clearly what his husband was going for by leaning forward, he shoves him away. He doesn’t look back, simply storming off the train platform and into the bowels of the Underground City. 

It does not take long for Oikawa to catch up to him, his steps silent on the stone. If Iwaizumi were to focus he’d be able to sense him but his attention is diverted as he enters into the main hall of his home---or what he had thought was his home. But he doesn’t know this place. The dark cavern, walls cool to the touch that Oikawa had hollowed out of the ground were lost in the sea of neon lights. Smoke billows from below where the constant drone of mortal feet and hammers hitting stone echoed. 

He wipes sweat from his brow, peering over the edge of elevated stone. The plumes of smoke sting his eyes, but he’s able to catch the walls of fire that burn far below. 

“Well?” Oikawa prompts. 

Iwaizumi looks back at his husband, anger flickering even hotter than the flames licking at the stone of his feet. He can’t help thinking of the world above, and how now that Oikawa has called him back prematurely, the mortals will face another long and bitter winter. How can Oikawa not get that? How could he be so selfish?

Oikawa is still looking at him expectantly. Iwaizumi doesn’t hold back, “In the coldest time of year, why is it so _hot_ down here?” He lets his burlap sack fall to the ground so he can cross his arms more comfortable, “It ain’t right and it ain’t natural.”

The last remnants of Oikawa’s smile melt off his face. He looks paler than Iwaizumi remembers, his eyes more sunken, but only for a moment. Then Oikawa seems to perk up, throwing out an arm theatrically at his home renovations, his long black trench coat swirling with the momentum, “Iwa-chan, you were gone so long! I got lonesome.”

“So you built all this? For what?” 

“For you!” 

Iwaizumi stares at him. 

Oikawa grits his teeth behind his sealed lips, hoping Iwaizumi can’t see the tension growing in his jaw. Did Iwaizumi really want to leave him so badly? Did every moment in his kingdom feel like torment to him? 

Oikawa knows he has little to offer Iwaizumi. His home is not a grand palace mountain with an endless expansive sky. Nor is it a temple under the sea, full of life and color. Oikawa can not offer him the sun’s rays like he knows Ushijima does, when Iwaizumi frolics above with him. The image in his mind burns at his retinas, brighter than the fires he’s forged down below. 

But he can offer him this. He can offer him brilliant lights, and the fire’s warmth. He can offer him jewels and crowns. He can and he will offer him all of this in hope he will stay by his side.

He tries to swallow down the sudden rising bile of self-loathing that gurgles up his throat at the displeasure in Iwaizumi’s eyes. The sheer discontent to just be back in his presence again after months. He fights it down and forces on an even slimier smile, leaning forward to wrap an arm around Iwaizumi’s shoulders.

“Lover, when you feel that fire,” he says, motioning down below to where the dead mortals toil, “Think of it as my desire, for _you_.”

Iwaizumi brushes his hand away. “That’s not natural,” he says. All he can think of is how cold the mortals must be up above right now. That’s where he should be. He still had three months up above to give them. They were counting on him and he had let them down.

Oikawa is on his other side now, “Iwa-chan,” he murmurs, forcing Iwaizumi to look at him. 

“You’re acting like you didn’t miss me?” 

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes. Of course he had missed his husband, but that was beside the point. He had a duty to fulfill for the mortals, and he took that duty seriously. He grits his teeth, ready to argue, but Oikawa silences him with a kiss. 

It’s a bit pushy and forces Iwaizumi to stumble back a few steps. Oikawa holds him up with one hand pressed tightly to his lower back. The other hand plays with his suspender strap, sliding it off his shoulder so that it dangles off his pants.

Iwaizumi bites Oikawa’s lip, pulling away when the other gasps. 

Iwaizumi turns away completely, fixing his suspender as he storms down the hallway. He won’t fall for Oikawa’s distractions. He’s angry and he needs to know the depths of the damage Oikawa has wrought to their kingdom so unnecessarily. 

He doesn’t get far. 

He feels a sudden force envelope his entire form and spin him around. The closures of his suspenders snap away and disappear. The stitching in his shirt shifts, the color darkening to a deep abyss. The cloth of his pants turns silky and tight, conforming to his skin. He squints. 

Oikawa smiles, taking a step that should have taken him several, in order to appear right in front of Iwaizumi again. He leans down, crooking his finger underneath Iwaizumi’s shirt collar and _tugs._ The first two buttons fly free, revealing his freshly tanned neck and a hint of his collarbone. 

Iwaizumi glares at his husband. 

Oikawa lets his fingers glide down Iwaizumi’s shoulders, “You said you were warm?”

Iwaizumi shrugs off the hand. “Who gave you permission to change my clothes?” he counters. 

Oikawa grits his teeth, “Should I have simply undressed you?”

Iwaizumi wrenches away with a hot flash of anger. Oikawa’s eyes widen in surprise before he can bring them back under control. He crosses his arms, hoping it minimizes their shaking, “Why are you so upset?”

“Why am I upset?” Iwaizumi repeats, “You brought me down into this hell hole when I should still be up there!”

“I brought you _home!_ ” Oikawa seethes, the fire below surging higher, as if fed by the bile on his tongue. Oikawa un-clenches his jaw with effort, straightening his jacket, “What’s so good about the surface anyway,” he adds, trying to create some distance between his outburst. 

Iwaizumi raises his chin up at him, unconvinced by the throwaway comment. Regardless, he decides to answer, hoping to ignite whatever is bothering his husband underneath so that it can come to the surface and be dealt with. “Every year it’s getting worse. The harvest dies and the people starve. Ushijima is --”

The flames lick up as high as their platform when Oikawa’s thunderous voice cracks through the air, “Do _not_ speak that vile name in my presence!”

Iwaizumi stares at him. But Iwaizumi has never been one to fear his husband. He stands his ground with a firm stance, like his mother taught him. “Ushijima needs me to keep the mortals safe. Together with his rays we--”

Oikawa is blinded by the image Iwaizumi’s words conjure in his mind. Of his lover in the arms of the sun. How could he ever believe he could compete with Ushijima? When he and Iwaizumi always seemed fated to each other. Oikawa had only succeeded by snatching him away, but it is only a matter of time before Iwaizumi leaves him. He can’t bear the thought. Iwaizumi owns his heart. He can’t lose him. He can’t. 

He won’t. 

He cuts him off, taking another dangerous step forward. His words fill with the venom from his menagerie of serpents, “Everything I do, I do it for the love of _you_ , Hajime.” He takes hold of Iwaizumi’s wrists, gripping them tightly in his hands. It had been months since he’d last held Iwaizumi. How he had longed for this moment while trapped sleepless in his lonely bed. Months with only the visions of his lover’s destined unfaithfulness to torment him. 

The visions attack him now again, and he expells them through his palms in the form of iron and steel. The same minerals mined by the dead working down below. They circle Iwaizumi’s hands, thick and heavy and tight. Iwaizumi jerks back. Oikawa follows him, pushing him down the elevated hall while his nightmares come to fruition. 

Iwaizumi tries to say something, but Oikawa drowns him out with his own blind fury, “If you don’t even want my love, I’ll give it to someone who does.” A lie. A blatant lie. There has only ever been Iwaizumi Hajime. There could only ever be Iwaizumi Hajime. But he is wounded and raw, and he wants Iwaizumi to feel the pain that coats his heart every time the spring bird sings its song. 

“I’ll give it to someone who appreciates the comforts of a gilded cage,” as he speaks the words, the rock walls respond, creating lines in the air of hard stone. A birdcage in the middle of their home that he shoves Iwaizumi in with all his godly might so that his husband actually stumbles, “Someone who doesn’t try to fly away whenever _Ushijima_ calls.”

He steps back, the gate of the bird cage slamming shut in front of him. The metallic clang rings heavy in his ears and snaps him from his stupor. He looks down to see Iwaizumi within its metal embrace, stunned and hurt. Oikawa’s lips part to apologize, to take it back, to beg forgiveness. But that would betray weakness. More and more weakness. Why would Iwaizumi ever wish to love such a weak excuse of a god?

Instead, he turns away. At first his steps are measured and purposeful, but as soon as he knows he’s out of Iwaizumi’s sight he begins to run. He rushes into his office, slamming the door behind him and shoving the papers off his desk. He bangs the granite top and ignores the way it cracks beneath his hand. 

_This isn’t how it was supposed to go_ , he thinks, pressing his hands into his face. 

But all he’s done is given Iwaizumi more reason to leave and never return.

Iwaizumi takes in a calming breath where he’s been left in the birdcage. He gets up from the ground, dusting off the back of his pants. The new circlets on his wrists are heavy but unchained. Decorative rather than functional. He rolls his eyes. Oikawa has always been one for theatrics, but this time really went over the top. 

He nudges the cage latch and it flies open with ease. He sighs. His husband has always been all bark and no bite. He takes a circuitous route to Oikawa’s office, dismissing the workers from their toil for the day as he goes. When he does enter Oikawa’s office, he finds his husband crumpled on the floor, his self hatred thick as the miasma of soot in the air around him. 

Iwaizumi shakes his head. He’s still furious, perhaps more so than before. But his walk has calmed him. And seeing the terrible facsimile of flowers using neon lights down near the bar had brought a begrudging smile to his face. He wonders how much his dear husband had struggled to make those. 

They need to talk. Really talk. He taps Oikawa’s shoulder, forcing the god to lift his miserable head. He offers him a bottle of the finest wine, taken straight from behind the bar, “Want a drink?”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you Furudate Sensei for creaitng Haikyuu!! Today marks the manga's end, but only the beginning for all the amazing fanworks it has inspired. 
> 
> If you enjoy my writing, I have started posting [original fiction on wattpad](https://www.wattpad.com/920183518-the-ring-chapter-1). Please consider supporting me. It would mean the world. 
> 
> Until next time.


End file.
